by Tony Davies
Lee’s first meeting with Westminster had been very low key. Lee had no intention of conceding first base to the developer and it was held in the task force’s temporary offices in Immigration Tower in Wanchai. The room was typical of many government offices. It was sparse with just a boardroom table and chairs. Not even a picture to break up the white painted walls. Since the application process was scheduled to take less than a year, no-one expected the accommodation to improve.
At the meeting pleasantries had been exchanged and Weston, who had unusually decided to attend the initial meeting, had given Lee’s team a brief overview of the project. Weston had then handed them a two hundred and eighty page dossier, which took everyone in the opposing team by surprise. A brief review of it told Lee that to say Westminster had come prepared was an understatement and he realized that when setting the short time frame someone in government had known how far advanced Westminster was.
Weston had then immediately distanced himself from the negotiations by indicating that his colleague Troy Wilson would be representing Westminster from that point on. Lee had a feeling Weston would soon realize it wasn’t that easy to extricate himself, but he refrained from commenting. It would all become clear as they wound their way forward.
The meeting had dragged on for almost an hour while the task force asked basic questions. There seemed little point in doing this as everyone knew that with the dossier Westminster had presented it had won the first round. Face had to be preserved though. Lee eventually wrapped up the meeting on the pre‐text of another engagement, although no‐one in the room was fooled by this subterfuge. Westminster were going to be formidable opponents indeed.
It took the task force two weeks to review the dossier’s contents and confirm their initial impression that it was extremely well prepared and persuasive. Detailed plans had been drawn up for the first stage, which included the marina, hotels, shopping center, leisure facilities and residential components. Outline plans had been included which covered additional residential developments, which were to be spread over a period of ten years. The cost projections appeared sound and the proposed time frame realistic.
Lee had grudgingly admitted to himself that Weston had structured an attractive deal for all parties. The project would create thousands of jobs for the construction industry and when completed would create even more jobs through the hotels, retail and service components. Westminster was seeking some tax concessions, but these were not unprecedented for a project of this size.
The major stumbling block appeared to be the land premium. When selling land to the private sector the government always charged a land premium and in this case it would be expected to be several billion dollars. Westminster had argued in its submission that an independent panel of valuers should determine the premium. Westminster then intended to pay only 50% of this figure. It argued that the economic benefit to Hong Kong of a project this size far out weighed a short-term windfall from the land premium.
Lee’s first reaction had been that he was in no mood to accommodate Westminster’s wishes. The government was entitled to secure the maximum it could and there was no reason to let the developer enjoy an enhanced profit by reducing it. It was time to play hardball and for him to show his superiors exactly why he shouldn’t be put out to pasture.
Chapter eight
Meeting a friend
It was 9pm and Weston walked through the door of his Old Peak Road apartment feeling tired and frustrated. He rarely took holidays and whilst it was not unknown for him to disappear for a long weekend, his mobile phone was permanently on. He found it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to switch off and relax and his frenetic life style and daily stress levels had over the years taken their toll.
He rarely socialized in the true sense of the word. He had a number of business contacts whom he would meet occasionally for dinner or drinks and numerous acquaintances he met on the cocktail party circuit. Not that he would consider any of them friends. ‘CACS’ as he referred to them ‐ Clients, Associates, Competitors and Sycophants - definitely not friends.
Weston’s approach to people reflected his upbringing and the virtues that his father had instilled in him. To people that met him for the first time he could appear to be gregarious and charming or abrasive and ruthless depending on what the situation called for.
Few people knew the real Andrew Weston and he liked it that way. He viewed ‘friends’ as a means to an end rather than an asset to be enjoyed. In business there was usually a winner and a loser and he had learnt from his father that it was much more fun being the winner.
He loosened his tie and threw his jacket on the side table near the door. His maid would hang it up later. It had been a long day of endless meetings, most of which he felt had achieved little in real terms. He glanced around the lounge and wondered what he would do for the rest of the evening.
As the Chairman and CEO of Westminster he was expected to live in a prestigious building with an apartment that was far too big for him. Although he officially lived alone, he employed a live in Filipina maid who had her own room off the kitchen. Her name was Maria Lopez and all he knew about her was that she had two children in the Philippines and was separated from her husband. His assistant had found her for him through one of the many agencies that specialized in importing Filipina maids. He had told her at the outset that as long she kept the place clean, did nothing in her spare time that might embarrass him or Westminster and stayed in her room while he was in the apartment they would get along fine.
So far it had worked extremely well. If he was at home and needed anything he simply buzzed her, which meant that most of the time she was the invisible person who looked after his domestic needs and kept out of his life. A month after she had moved in he had doubled her wages so that she was not tempted to move elsewhere. Since then she hadn’t complained to him about how she was being treated and he assumed she was happy enough. Life was too short to be continually unhappy, even if you were a domestic helper from the Philippines.
The drinks cabinet was in the corner of the room and he saw the ice bucket was full. He opened a bottle of malt whisky, poured himself a small measure and added a single ice cube.
It was raining lightly and to his disappointment he saw the harbour was shrouded in mist and he could barely make out the Kowloon skyline in the distance. The balcony was his refuge and he enjoyed the solitude and sense of peace it offered him.
After a few minutes he became restless and walked back to the cabinet to replenish his drink. His mind kept returning to the events of the day and he asked himself why he couldn’t relax. He looked at the adjoining building and wondered how many other people were asking themselves the same question.
Hong Kong was one permanent adrenalin rush, no-one ever sat still, so he assumed the answer was many. It was one of the things he liked about the place, the constant challenge of staying ahead of the pack, of showing people that you were better than them. The money was important as a means of measuring success, but he had long gone past the need to accumulate wealth. He had more than enough to last several lifetimes. Now it was all about getting to the top of the summit, even though he readily admitted he couldn’t define where the summit was.
He assumed everyone in his position was driven in the same way and stayed that way until they either burned out or succumbed to a heart attack. If it was the former they got out and retired to their villa in the south of France. He couldn’t imagine anything worse.
He reached for his mobile phone and pressed one of the speed dials. When it was answered he said “Hi, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, just sat here, thinking of you.”
“You must be doing something more interesting than that. How was your day?” he asked in a brusque manner.
“Why wouldn’t I be thinking of you! Don’t be nasty. It was boring, but never mind, tonight I make up for it. I will go to your place and cheer you up.” It was hard to detect over the phone that Tee had been born
and raised in Bangkok.
He smiled at the response, money was a great motivator in most relationships. “Not sure if I can afford you. Business is bad” he joked light heartedly.
“I know you are joking. Anyway, let’s not talk money. You know I am very grateful. You know that, don’t you?”
He would normally see Tee once or twice a week, always at his instigation. He paid a substantial retainer so that at any time of the day or night it was his decision to make whether they met or not.
“Yes, I know that. Okay, it will take you twenty minutes to get here from your place at this time of night so I will sit here quietly enjoying my drink until you arrive. Oh, and bring some of your toys with you.”
After he had hung up he went to the kitchen and saw that Maria had left him a chicken salad and a plate of fresh fruit. He took them onto the balcony and sat down to eat while he waited for Tee to arrive.
Chapter nine
That is my muffin
The alarm clock rang at precisely 7am and Mack reached over and turned it off. He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and sat there quietly. His bedroom had a floor to ceiling mirror, which was the width of his double bed. He had inherited it when he had bought the apartment and he had never questioned why the previous owner had not removed it. It had its uses when female companions stayed over and he could honestly say he hadn’t put it there himself. He doubted many believed him, but at least it was a conversation starter of sorts. He gazed in the mirror for a few minutes and remembered that he had promised to meet a friend at the gym that evening. He was still in good shape, but he knew he would only remain like that if he worked at it.
He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water was cold and as he stepped under the water he held his breath for a moment. He always started the day with a cold shower. It reminded him he was still alive and it seemed to awake all his inner senses.
After showering he quickly shaved and then randomly picked a clean shirt from the wardrobe. He had a part time Filipina maid who came in once a week for four hours to clean and iron his shirts. He could throw clothes in a washing machine and even hang them out to dry, but ironing was one chore he had no intention of ever mastering.
He walked down the stairs to the street below and as he exited the building he saw it was raining heavily. The weather bureau hadn’t been totally wrong after all. A taxi went by, its yellow roof light glowing in the gloom of the falling rain and he put his hand out to stop it. It ignored him and stopped thirty yards further along the road where a Chinese couple were frantically waving. They quickly got into the cab without looking at him and for a moment he was tempted to shout an obscenity in Cantonese. He avoided the temptation and continued walking towards his office.
Twenty minutes later he was at his desk looking at his laptop when he heard the front door open. A man could be heard putting his umbrella in the stand by the door and cursing in Cantonese. A few moments later a short Chinese man in his early twenties walked into Mack’s office and said in heavily accented English “Morning Dai Lo. Want some tea?”
“Morning Ping and thanks but no thanks.” Mack pointed to the Starbucks coffee cup and a half eaten banana muffin on his desk. “Nothing like a caffeine fix to get the heart started in the morning. How did you get on yesterday?”
“Chan not at home. Spoke to neighbor and she say she not seen Chan for one week. His mail box full, all junk mail.”
Ping had been born in China and had come to Hong Kong when he was twelve. He was a bright boy who at first had excelled at the state run school he attended and seemed to be enjoying a normal adolescence. That was until he was sixteen and was arrested for shoplifting for which he received a three-month detention order at a juvenile facility. A harsh sentence for a first offence, but the magistrate had reasoned a short sharp lesson to a young mainlander would send him a better message than the softer option of a fine.
Before he had resigned from the police Mack had been invited to talk to some of the detainees at the facility in an effort by the police to ‘humanise’ its officers in the eyes of young offenders. Ping had asked several questions about his work and seemed a polite teenager with a thirst for knowledge. After the talk Ping had introduced himself and they talked about football, which Ping was particularly interested in.
On his release Mack had been surprised to hear from him and even more surprised when he had asked if he could help him find a job. By coincidence one of Mack’s friends had recently opened a sports shop and was looking for a junior helper. A short while later Ping was learning the intricacies of customer service and stock ordering and whilst it wasn’t particularly exciting work, he applied himself diligently and kept out of trouble. Soon after Mack had started his business Lindy had told him they needed a junior to run errands and with his friend’s blessing Ping had joined his team.
Mack replied “Okay, go back tomorrow morning, very early. He may just be sleeping there and is out all day, although I am not sure why he would do that when he is supposed to have the flu. Check if he has gone to stay with his sister or his parents, although be careful about that, I don’t want them to know we are looking for him. Ask Lindy to check with our airline contacts to see if he has left the colony.”
The discussion was interrupted when Lindy shouted from the front door “You boys couldn’t sleep last night?”
She walked into the office and picked up the remains of Mack’s muffin and ate it. She grimaced when she said “I much prefer the chocolate chip variety. You will get fat if you eat too many of those.”
She sat down next to Ping and as she did so Mack picked up his coffee and put it out of her reach. She smiled “Oh you are on the ball this morning, but as you know, I prefer tea this early. Am I interrupting something or can I tell you my news?”
“Go ahead, we were just discussing Stephen Chan. He wasn’t at home yesterday.”
“I see, well anyway, I did some more research on Bent. Very strange indeed, every avenue seems to be a dead end. Oh, I have spoken to lots of sources and can at least confirm he works with Westminster.”
She sounded exasperated when she whined “But I can’t find anything about his past. It is almost as if he didn’t exist before joining the company.”
Mack picked up a pencil off his desk and twirled it in his fingers. “Keep at it, but don’t treat it as a priority. I am not sure why he interests me, I just have a gut feeling that there is much more to Bent than we realize.”
Lindy said, “I am meeting a government friend for drinks after work and of course, you are paying. I should know more about Lee’s schedule then. Lee and Stephen’s father almost certainly knew each other in government as both were in the finance department around the same time. Johnson says hello and he agrees with you, whatever that means. He told me the room was booked that night in the name of someone called Wong. Paid in cash and for some reason there are no ID card or passport details on file. That means they deleted them from the computers and one of their security team is looking into that. He doesn’t think it will lead anywhere though and he can’t rule out the fact that someone may have just been careless.”
Mack considered what Lindy had just told him. All the major hotels kept guests’ records for up to a year and he doubted the fact the details were not recorded was down to carelessness. “Okay, our first priority is to find Stephen. I doubt anything has happened to him, but we need to find out. Ping, over to you on that one.”
Chapter ten
Catching up with an old friend
Lan Kwai Fong is adjacent to the main business district in Central and its bars and restaurants attract a younger set from both the expat and Chinese communities. On any given weekday night investment bankers and the like can be seen drinking exorbitantly priced bottled beers in trendy bars or eating over priced food in cramped restaurants. In Mack’s opinion it was all part of the ‘see and be seen’ mentality in Hong Kong that he had vowed he would never fall prey to.
Mack’s destination of
choice when he wanted to socialize was Wanchai, The area is situated between Central and Causeway Bay and in its hey day was the colony’s red light district. In bygone days it had been full of American GIs on leave from Vietnam or British troops stationed in Hong Kong for no other purpose than to maintain the farce of the UK’s military prowess. No-one really believed they were there as a deterrent to China invading the colony.
Prior to the late 1980s Wanchai had deserved this reputation, but over the years it had morphed into a shadow of its former self. It was now quite tame compared to other parts of Asia, such as Bangkok and Pattaya in Thailand. The ‘girlie bars’, where Filipina girls in bikinis danced on a small stage and gyrated around a pole, still existed, but in recent times better quality establishments such as Carnegies, Delaney’s and Devils Advocate had supplemented them. It had become an expat domain catering to a slightly older and less ‘yuppie’ type of client. Mack doubted that would be the case for much longer. The yuppies always took over in the end. It was only a matter of time.